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ancience · 10 days ago

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The Language of Flowers

Not all roots grow toward the sun. The myth of Hades & Persephone retold. (AO3)

Chapter I. Lotus

Mama has a guest.

They must be rare, else her handmaidens would not have taken heed.

Perhaps noble, someone of Olympian standing—or the hush that followed would not have lingered so. The blades of grass, the birds in flight, even the breath of Zephyrus himself have stilled—as though the world holds its breath.

Not a good omen, Kore thinks. Yet neither is it ill, for no vulture has come bearing its sign. Nonetheless, it is a welcome distraction from the tedium of her duties. The nymphs care little for today’s lecture if they can afford to be distracted, and there is little use in forcing closed ears open. She turns her gaze homeward, hoping to glimpse a familiar face, a known figure arriving.

Nothing. Only thin wisps of black smoke trailing along the stoa.

Most guests arrive with pomp and flourish. This is strange. Bewildered and emboldened by wonder, she decides to approach their temple, the soil beneath her bare feet alternating between hard and soft. The nymphs have dispersed the moment her back turned, and Kore does not blame them.

Imagine if it were Ares. Suitors come and go, yet he stands out for daring to challenge her mother. Has he not learned from her judgement? How far will he go in the name of love this time? She almost laughs aloud, picturing him: Ares, all brute and brawn, waxing poetic like a thespian onstage. A spectacle worthy of Aphrodite’s amusement, indeed—but not hers. For Kore, daughter of the earth and sky, it will have to take more than words.

So thrilled is she by this thought that she almost misses the transformation before her eyes. The smoke has since thickened, solidified, and taken form.

A man, clad in armor dark as the void, strides through the stoa towards the throne room.

Instinct propels her forward, heart lurching into her throat as she ducks behind nearby shrubs. Looking at him—whosoever he may be—is like looking at her impending doom. There is fear in the manner of which his presence commands space, fear that crawls down her throat and coils in her gut.

This is no ordinary god.

And part of her thinks this should be enough, that any further could spell peril. But the other half—ever the curious and competitive half—plays helkystinda with her conscience. Unsurprisingly, it wins.

And so she presses herself to the walls of their temple, ears straining for business not her own.

“Dear brother,” her mother’s tone suggests otherwise, “to what unlawful deed do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Brother. Poseidon? Then again, he is all tempestuous tides and raging seas, not this frigid gravity. Despite their sacred bond, much between them lies buried, roots her mama dares not unearth.

But the god does not play along.

“There is an influx of souls drifting along the banks of Acheron, obol-less and unaccounted for. Tracing their source has led me here. Care to enlighten?”

A pause.

“And here I thought you missed your sister.”

Her sibling says nothing in response, or if he does, Kore does not hear. Silence stretches, tightens; harder she presses her head against the column. She must hear more.

Then, a long sigh. “My fields flourish in order. My rites are observed as they have been for eons. Yet you speak as though I have somehow invited this disturbance.”

“I do not come to accuse for the sake of conflict,” replies he, “but to seek the truth that which our duties demand.”

“Search my fields if you must. I have nothing to hide… if that is what you imply.”

Kore’s stomach knots. This is unlike her mother. Demeter does not entertain accusations. Above all, she does not allow herself to be questioned.

Why now, then? Why him?

How little, truly, does she know her?

And just who is this brother who guards the river Acheron?

She cannot help herself. The voices are fading, and she leans closer, yearning for more—to see her mother’s expression, to hear more of this brother. Not a single boast or brag in their exchange.

But before Kore can fully make sense of it all, the guest bursts forth, arms burdened with not one, not two—but three brimming cornucopias. How he manages to balance them is an enigma. She follows.

A fruit tumbles from his grasp. Instinct moves before thought. Kore catches it mid-air.

“You dropped this.”

He pauses. Turns slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of his face—

Eyes gray like steel… a hint of stubble…

“Right here, this instant!”

And the trance breaks.

Kore whirls around, retreating to the throne room on swift feet, heart clattering against her ribs. The weight of her mother’s scrutiny bears down on her, as it always does.

“You are a goddess.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Not some lowly nymph.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“So act accordingly.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Stay in your place. That is what she truly means.

As mysteriously as he’d come, the guest departs. And nothing is spoken of it until nightfall, when Helios rests. The halls of their temple hum with hurried whispers as all are summoned under discreet urgency.

“Forgive my lapse in memory,” Demeter addresses before the court, “I no longer recall my last wrath.”

Kore does—all too well. The king of Thessaly. A decade past, in the sacred grove. Twenty-one souls.

Clearing her throat, she continues. “It has been brought to my attention that there were unaccounted losses, which in turn disturbed the natural cycle. Henceforth, our fields are to be placed under guard until further notice.”

“By whom, Great Mother?” asks a nymph.

“That, I cannot say… whether it be the Chthonians—or Hades himself.”

A ripple of shocked gasps rushes through the multitude. When Kore looks around, their faces are etiolated, drained of all chlorophyll.

Hades. The name feels foreign on her tongue, as though forbidden to be uttered.

Sleep eludes her later that night, the weight of the fruit—a pomegranate—pressing against her chest, and the forbidden name echoing in the recesses of her mind.

For the first time, Kore wonders not what tomorrow brings.

But what waits below.

#hades x persephone #hades and persephone #hades #persephone #kore #greek mythology #my writing #hades/persephone #hellenic gods #greek gods #ancient greek #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #gods and goddesses

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ancience · 2 months ago

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